


For Your Entertainment

by ConsultingCaffrey



Category: White Collar
Genre: Neal!whump, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingCaffrey/pseuds/ConsultingCaffrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is kidnapped and taken to a trafficking ring. Peter thinks he ran, but to find his friend, he'll have to rethink that. Neal!whump. Tumblr Request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> FINISHED. This was a request from Tumblr and I'm so glad I got it done. I'm going on a trip and I wanted to post something before I left. Yes, I kinda rushed it so I might come and fix it up when I get back, but as of now, I'm just gonna post it as is because I'll be gone for a while and I wanted to leave you guys with this before I disappear for a week.

There were at least a dozen in all, most of them young and pretty things, like himself. They were kept separate, all in different rooms that were locked from the outside. These rooms were about the size of a large bathroom, with bare walls and bare floors. The ceilings were low, just tall enough for Neal to stand and not hit his head.

He didn't mind the small room so much. At least when he was there, they left him alone. At first, he wondered why it was taking so long for Peter to mount a rescue, then he thought maybe Peter was still mad at him about the treasure thing. Would he leave Neal here out of spite? Probably not. That just wasn't his style. But after lord knows how long with these people, Neal was beginning to have his doubts. He had no way to tell time, but he figured it had been about a week, though it was hard to tell. Time moved so slowly here.

The worst was when people, mostly men, but sometimes women, would come and look at him, like he was a dog at a shelter they wanted to adopt. His apparent handler, whose name was Derrick, always treated him as such. 

This went on for a while. Sometimes he'd be taken to a new place with someone who seemed to show interest in him, but that always ended once they realized their new pet had quite an attitude. Neal would always be brought back, smirking as he evaded yet another strange "owner". 

Derrick was never pleased. Every time Neal returned to his little room, Derrick would be there to welcome him back with a few solid slaps to the face. Neal could deal with that. It was better than being put into the hands of some creep who only wanted him for purposes Neal would rather not be apart of.

Then came Vito.

Vito was shorter, had reddish hair, and his eyes were a strange mix of hazel and green. He was quiet, spoke very little, and once Neal was dragged out to stand in front of him, he somehow knew he was going with this man.

Vito's eyes traveled over every inch of him and he even reached out to poke and prod at Neal's bare chest. Neal jerked away from his touch. Touch was never a good thing with these kind of people. Vito only grinned at that.

"Still a fighter, is he?"

If Neal didn't have a gag in his mouth, he would have answered for himself and probably pissed off his latest admirer, but Derrick spoke instead.

"He won't give you any trouble, will you Neal?"

Neal snorted and rolled his eyes, receiving a punch to the gut for that. Oddly enough, Vito's grin widened. "I like the look of him. I'll be back with your money tomorrow night. Have him ready."

Neal was shoved back into his little room, the gag removed, and he brushed himself off, still able to feel Vito's eyes all over him. He sighed, leaning against the wall. Yet another asshole to disappoint. Peter better be on his way with that cavalry or he'd have to break out of here himself. Not that he hadn't tried already. Of course he'd tried. It was just that this place was locked down like Fort Knox. Even Houdini would have trouble with this one. No, it was usually better to attempt an escape when people took him out of here. He'd almost succeeded twice already. Wait, how long had he been missing? Maybe Peter actually thought he ran this time. Considering their shaky relationship recently, that was probably exactly it. Neal shook his head bitterly at the thought. That was just fine. He'd get out on his own and when he came back, Peter would have a lot of explaining to do about where the hell he'd been all this time.

-)()(-

It had been three weeks, but Peter wasn't giving up yet. Mozzie was nowhere to be found, so that was strike one against Neal. Strike two was the fact that they'd had an argument the night before he'd disappeared. So far, all clues pointed to a cut and run. That had been Peter's first instinct all along, and yes, he still felt betrayed. He'd thought Neal was better than this. But then there had been the treasure incident, and that had shaken their already tentative alliance. Now this.

Peter sat at the kitchen table, ignoring El's attempts to cheer him up. Neal had run, that much was clear. But for some reason, there was something that didn't add up here. It was just a feeling, not anything concrete. Peter frowned down at the thick file before him, and thought back to the last time he'd seen Neal.

Nothing strange had really popped out at him then, and it didn't now. They'd been fighting, sure, and Neal had walked off in a huff, but they'd had arguments like that before. It wasn't anything worth running for. And besides, Neal had said something along the lines of, "You can yell at me about it in the morning, it'll be fun." That didn't mean much, though. Not with Neal. He could have decided to run later, when he got back to June's.

Peter sighed when Elizabeth circled her arms over his shoulders from behind. "I'll be up in a minute. Just..."

"Yeah, I know," she murmured. "Don't stay up too late."

She padded up to their bedroom and Peter rested his chin in one hand. There was something he was missing. He could feel it.

-)()(-

Vito was seriously messed up in the head, Neal realized quickly. For starters, his idea of living quarters was a small trailer out in the woods next to an old train track. There was a red boxcar still sitting there on the rails and this was where he led Neal.

As he pulled back the door, Neal fought the urge to stumble back at the smell and the heat from inside. Vito shoved him in roughly and Neal grunted at he fell onto his hands and knees.

Vito wasn't done with him yet. He fitted Neal with a black leather collar, and placed similar braces around his wrists. These, he tied to either side of the boxcar, making it so that his arms were stretched out. His legs remained free, though it was clear that that didn't mean much. He wouldn't be able to slip the wrist braces. They'd been tightened to the point where it was rather uncomfortable. Neal would have complained out loud if he didn't still have a gag in his mouth, also leather, which tasted like salt and copper, an odd and, quite frankly, disturbing combination.

When all this was done and Neal was left standing there glaring at the other man, Vito smiled to himself, nodding. "There you go. I knew you wouldn't give me any trouble."

Neal huffed through his nose and rolled his eyes, which only seemed to make Vito's wicked smile broaden. "Like a wild stallion, you are. If you behave yourself, I'll take off those restraints in three weeks."

Neal mumbled an insult around the gag, which Vito ignored. He stepped closer, his eyes roving over every inch of Neal's body once again. "Much as I'd like to play with my new toy straight away, I think I'll give you the rest of the day to settle in."

'Oh, how very generous of you,' Neal thought bitterly, watching as his captor climbed back out of the boxcar and slid the door shut again, leaving Neal in mostly darkness.

He fell asleep some time later on his knees, his arms already aching, as they were the only things preventing him from laying down. 

-)()(-

The games had begun.

It started out unbearable and only got worse from there. However, unlike the others Neal had been subjected to, Vito seemed to have little interest in sex. No, he was an all new kind of psycho.

A blindfold was quickly added to the various accessories Neal had been fitted with. Vito never took him out of the boxcar, which was stuffy and hot. It hovered around 90° during the day, then dropped down low enough at night to make Neal shiver. The fact that he didn't have a shirt wasn't much help either.

The days were spent at Vito's mercy, enduring whatever tortures he had planned. At first, it was small things. A few beatings, some knife play, but as time went on, he got creative.

One day, he tried his hand at water boarding, the next it was fun with a hot fire poker, then after that it was seeing how many marks he could make with just the rope and leather.

Today, almost three weeks in, Neal was no closer to escaping than he'd been when he first arrived and he was beginning to panic. He had been rendered blind, mute, and given very little room to move around. There had to be a way out. He was missing something.

He flinched when he heard the sliding door to the boxcar begin to slide open as Vito walked in once more. Neal did his best to get to his feet and stand straight, hiding any pain or fatigue. His hands being tied to the sides of the car sort of helped balance him.

"Look at that," Vito hummed, stepping close enough for Neal to smell his breath, "You've still got that spark to you. Let's see if we can't snuff that out today."

"Fuck you," Neal tried to say, but the gag made it hard. His message was clear enough.

To his surprise, Vito actually removed it, and the blindfold, both of which had become almost permanent fixtures. Neal blinked against the sudden light and licked his dry mouth, stumbling in place. He wasn't left alone long enough to get his bearings. Before he even knew what was happening, Vito had grabbed him by the jaw and stuck a water bottle in his mouth. This wasn't unusual. He got water like this every day. What was unusual was the taste, which certainly wasn't water. It burned his tongue and reminded him of the cough medicine his mother had made him take once, except worse.

He immediately jerked his head away, his already raw wrists chafing against their restraints as he did so. He choked for a second, then shot Vito a nasty glare. That was a new trick. He'd be sure to watch out for it in the future.

Vito only laughed harshly and grabbed his right arm to pull him close again. Neal was having none of it. He snapped his head around and sank his teeth into Vito's hand. It did the trick, and Neal watched smugly as his captor jumped back, clutching his hand. "You little shit," he snarled.

Neal had done things like that before. He wasn't about to become someone's bitch without fighting them every chance he got. So, a kick here, a head butt there, it was satisfying. It let him have just a small moment of victory for himself despite his situation.

Vito had a temper, though, and as always, he gave Neal a good beating for his misbehavior, spitting curses all the while.

Neal knew it wouldn't be over with that, though. And, as he expected, Vito slipped the blindfold and gag back over his head, but this time, Neal also felt him loosen the straps on his wrists enough to where he could slip them off easily, which he did. Puzzled at this newfound freedom, Neal reached up to tug the blindfold off, but Vito didn't let him, and Neal found himself stumbling to keep his balance as the other man gave him a rough shove.

Neal stood, listening, but Vito made no other move. He reached up more quickly this time, determined to at least be able to see, but his head snapped to the side at a hard punch to the jaw. If he didn't have the gag in his mouth, he most certainly would have bit his own tongue.

Frustrated at Vito's new game, Neal lashed out at where he knew his captor was, but his fist hit nothing but air, and once again, he was shoved roughly, falling onto his side this time. At least his hands were free.

On the ground, he was finally able to slip the blindfold off before Vito could stop him, and he leaped to his feet once again. At the same time, Vito came at him, but Neal was able to see it coming now, and he dodged the fist aimed for his head. He'd never been good at hand-to-hand combat, but he knew enough to defend himself, at least. Going on the offense couldn't be too hard, he figured, so he threw himself at Vito, heart beating faster at the hope of actually escaping for good this time. All he had to do was slide back the door and run. But first, he had his captor to deal with. 

He slammed his body into Vito's, shoving him back against the side of the boxcar. The smaller man's head bounced against the wood with a sharp crack and Neal let him drop, honestly surprised with himself, but he didn't hesitate. He took the gag out of his mouth and let it fall around his neck, then he made a break for the door while Vito groaned from his new position on the floor. Big mistake, taking off those wrist braces.

Neal pulled on the door, and it slid back with a little more effort than he'd been expecting, but once he had enough space to go through, he jumped out, looking around quickly for anything that could help him.

He was blindsided by something much bigger than Vito, and as his back hit the ground, a pair of huge hands found his neck and Neal stared up in shock at the beast of a man leaning over him. He probably should have expected something like this. A guard, a dog, a fence. These kinds of people were usually prepared.

Still, Neal struggled, though his legs were pinned down by the other man's weight and the hands around his throat weren't letting up their suffocating pressure.

"Boris!" he heard Vito's voice snap.

The weight disappeared and so did the strong hands, and Neal gasped in several breaths. However, his air supply was cut off once more as Boris grabbed the gag around his neck and hauled him to his feet with it. 

Vito looked pissed, but he was grinning as he approached the two, Neal still struggling for air as Boris held tight to the gag. 

"I underestimated you," Vito said. "It will take more time, but I know you'll come around. I enjoy a challenge."

Neal kept his wide eyes on him, even as his vision began to blur, and only then did Vito bark, "Let him down."

Boris let go and Neal fell back into the dirt, gasping and coughing as he clutched at his throat. Vito was quick to kneel beside him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. "From this point on, if I tell you to do something, you do it. If I catch you so much as looking at that door, I will beat the crap out of you, understand?"

When Neal didn't answer, he kicked dirt in his face. "Answer me!"

"I understand," Neal panted. He had no intention of ever becoming compliant to this maniac, but he did need to rethink his strategy here. If he was going to escape, he needed to gain Vito's trust. That would be hard enough even if Neal could stand to be in his presence, but it was better than giving in. He'd wait, bide his time, and when the opportunity presented itself, he'd run.

-)()(-

Mozzie sat across from Peter in his office, holding a glare as the agent did the same.

"You still haven't answered me," Peter said. 

"Neither have you, Suit," Mozzie huffed. "Do you even care that Neal is missing?"

"If he is," Peter corrected. "I still don't know if I can trust you, Mozzie. I already know I can't trust him. So why don't you tell me what you know about this?"

"As much as you," Mozzie replied. "Which is nothing. The last time I saw Neal, he was telling me all about how your trust in him —if it ever existed— has all but disappeared since that whole treasure thing happened. I drank some of his wine, then I left. That's it. Next thing I know, he's not anywhere to be found and the FBI has an ABP out on him!" By the end of that, Mozzie was red in the face and Peter raised a hand to calm him down.

"Hey, relax. If he's been kidnapped, we'll find him."

"Still with the 'if'!" Mozzie exclaimed. "Neal has been taken! It's already been too long! If you had approached this situation correctly from the beginning, maybe Neal would be home already."

"Yeah?" Peter retorted, "And where have you been for the last two weeks?"

"Looking for my friend," Mozzie said. "As you should have been."

"And?"

"The trail ends with a crook named Toby Wallace. That's as far as I got. Neal knew him a while back, but then Wallace tried to cheat him, so Neal cut him off and as far as I know, that was that. But Wallace has gotten into some pretty shady things in the last few years. I've heard rumors, but no one I know can give me any details about it."

"That's it? That's all you have?"

Mozzie narrowed his eyes. "Why do you think I walked into this god forsaken building in the first place? I can't find Neal on my own. I've heard how highly he speaks of you and I know how much faith he has in what you can do. I'm here because he believed you could help people. That's it. Now do him a favor and prove him right for once." Mozzie stood, looking uncomfortable, then gave Peter a small nod and left hurriedly. Peter didn't try to stop him. They both knew that he was more valuable outside, not in an FBI interrogation room.

-)()(-

Neal felt sweat running off him in rivers, the heat inside the boxcar making his skin glisten and his breathing became labored. He was on his knees again, alone, and he tugged halfheartedly at the leather around his wrists. His mouth was as dry as the Sahara and his stomach ached from both hunger and the intense heat.

He had been waiting for Vito to show up. It had been a while now, and from how hot it was, he knew it must be past noon. 

Right on cue, he stiffened, hearing the sliding door roll back. Footsteps approached and Neal tilted his head a bit. They sounded different. Lighter, sharper. He thought he might recognize the sound as heels on wood. A cool hand found his chin and he didn't flinch, instead leaning into it. Another equally cold hand found his cheek and he bit back a moan.

Slender fingers tugged the blindfold and Neal squinted against the sudden brightness as the black cloth was tossed aside. Next was the gag, but she left his hands tied.

She was quite beautiful, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders and blue eyes looking at him with a hint of a smile. "Vito told me you were handsome," she purred, running a hand through his damp hair. "But, boy are you a pretty thing."

Neal was wary, of course, but her hands were gentle as they stroked his face and her voice was soothing. He couldn't help but feel just a little safer. 

Then she knelt down and let her hands slide down his chest, lower, lower. 

Neal tried to draw back, realizing exactly where this was going, but she grabbed a fistful of his hair, smiling. "Neal," she chuckled, as if he'd just told her something funny.

"Stop," he said, the single word coming out hoarse. She only chuckled again and kept hold of his hair with one hand, the other continuing its exploration. With deft fingers, she made quick work of the button and zipper of his pants. Neal tried to pull away again, but the hand in his hair tightened painfully.

Neal tried several more times to free himself from her, but it was no use, and by the time she was done with him, he had completely blocked out his surroundings, not wanting to think about what she was doing. 

She left his pants crumpled in a corner, and him still on his knees, trembling, eyes closed as he felt them burning with tears.

How far he'd fallen...

It was a mere hour later that the door opened once again and Vito walked in, pausing to give Neal a nasty glare. "I see you've met my sister. Fucking slut. I'll kill her!"

Neal could see that Vito wasn't upset at what his sister had done, only that she had done it without his permission. But he was grateful to have Vito back if only for the return of his clothes. But then the blindfold went back on and the gag as well. Back to darkness and silence.

-)()(-

Toby Wallace was a tight-lipped man. It took Peter a day and the threat of a warrant to get any useful information out of him. The squirrely guy told him that, yes, he'd seen Neal. Peter got that Neal and Toby had run into each other not long after Neal had stormed off that night after his and Peter's argument. Toby said he'd been happy to see his old friend, but Neal was in a foul mood and didn't want to stick around. "I told ya, I don't know what happened after that," Wallace finished. "But, hey, ya didn't hear this from me, but I heard Rex has been askin' around about him, about a lot of people I know. Maybe start there. Now are we done here, Burke? I got a kid at home."

"Who's Rex?" Peter asked, but Toby shook his head. "I don't think so, agent. There are certain things best you find out for yourself. I ain't gettin' caught tellin' you nothin' about that guy."

Naturally, Peter called Mozzie, who had left a number for him to call should anything about Neal pop up.

"Suit."

"Does the name Rex ring any bells?"

"A few. Why?"

"Wallace just told me that a guy named Rex was asking around about Neal. What can you tell me?"

"I'd feel safer coming to Suit HQ than saying anything over the phone," Mozzie said. "Be right there."

He hung up before Peter could protest, and the agent sighed. He was beginning to regret many of the things he'd said to Neal the last time he saw him. Most of them were either false or exaggerated. Now that he was playing a different game, searching for him instead of chasing him, he realized that maybe they'd both lost their heads a little.

Well, he'd find Neal. Then he could apologize to him in person. They could start over, as they always did when they had little fights like that.

But then there was the treasure. Peter knew Neal had it, he just knew. And the kid continued to lie to his face. All Peter needed was concrete evidence, which would show up eventually. What ticked him off was that Neal was very good at lying to him.

-)()(-

The sister became the bane of Neal's existence. He never knew when she would show up, but it was usually when Vito wasn't there. She said that her brother needed to learn to share. She said a lot of things in that crooning voice of hers.

She told him that her name was Cecile, but only so that she could make him say it to her whenever she wanted him to. Sometimes she got particularly rough and forced him to scream it. She always left him naked for Vito to find, and the man was particularly angry when that happened. He took it out on Neal, in more creative ways as time went on. How long had it been now? Too long. Neal was usually back at that other place by now in the small room that was his, able to walk around and see and speak. He was sure now that he'd never see that place again, that he'd never see anything or feel anything other than this boxcar.

Today, Neal was exhausted. Vito had left a minute ago, so he sank to his knees once again, head bent forward as blood dripped steadily from his split lip. The heat of the day made him sweat rivers again. At least he could rest now.

Footsteps approached again, though, and Neal couldn't help but whimper in defeat. He'd had enough today. Why was Vito coming back?

But when the door slid open, it did so slowly, and a few seconds went by before Neal heard anything else. Small, hesitant footsteps now, coming towards him very slowly. He tensed, waiting.

When he felt a small tug on the blindfold, he pulled back slightly, surprised when the tugging stopped and he heard a gasp. He froze. What sort of game was this?

After a moment, the tugging resumed and the black cloth slipped down around his neck. He blinked a few times until his aqua blue eyes were able to focus on the person in front of him. Not Vito, not Cecile, not even Boris. It was just a kid. A little girl. Her strawberry red hair and hazel eyes reminded Neal of Vito, but she was gentle and kind as she also slipped the gag out of his mouth. Her movements were unsure, and her eyes were wide. Neal could see a dark bruise over one cheek.

"H- Hi," she whispered.

Neal's voice was hoarse when he returned the greeting, but it earned him a smile.

"I- I brought you s- something," she stammered, holding a water bottle out to him.

At first, Neal leaned away from it, but when she persisted, he took it between his teeth and drank just a tiny bit. It tasted better than anything he'd ever had before and the girl tipped the bottle up as he drank greedily. Vito gave him water, sure, but it usually tasted like crap and it was always warm. This was ice cold. 

His brain told him he should be looking for an angle here, questioning why she was doing this for him, but when she also held out an apple, he didn't care. He didn't even care that he was being hand-fed by a little girl.

"My d- dad left," she said after a while. "He sh- should be back s- soon."

"What's your name?" Neal asked.

"T- Tonya. I just m- moved here. Momma d- didn't want me anymore."

They both jumped when they heard the sound of tires on the dirt driveway and Tonya quickly stuck the gag and blindfold back over Neal's head, whispering, "I'm sorry!"

In a flash, she was gone and Neal stayed frozen to the spot, listening as he heard Vito's sharp voice reprimand her as she came tumbling out of the boxcar.

"I- I'm s- s- sorry!" she cried.

"Shut up, you stuttering cunt!" Vito snapped. "Get out of here! Git!"

A minute later, he barged into the heat of the boxcar and huffed. "Did she say anything to you?"

Neal shook his head.

"Did she touch you?"

He shook his head again.

Vito grunted. "Stupid bitch. If I catch her in here again, I'll beat her senseless, I swear to god."

He said nothing more for a moment, so Neal figured he was going to leave again. Instead, something hard smacked him over the back of the head and he saw stars. Vito's voice faded back in after a moment as Neal found himself face down on the floor, his arms in an awkward position thank to the restraints. "...and she ain't gonna save you, understand?"

Neal didn't even have to answer. He heard Vito stalk back to the door, sliding it shut with more force than necessary.

-)()(-

Rex Morgan was an interesting man on paper. He was a businessman, head of a livestock company in upstate New York, and also owned a few properties in Manhattan and Los Angeles. He'd gone to Yale and graduated at the top of his class. That was really all they knew about him.

"No criminal record," Peter mused with a glance at Mozzie, who had once again braved the FBI office.

"That's because he's never been caught," the little guy said. "I don't have much, but I've got rumor, and where I'm from, Suit, rumor is usually truth."

"Alright, so tell me about these rumors," Peter said, closing the file in front of him.

"He's in the human trafficking business, but he doesn't just handle beautiful foreign women. He deals in men as well. You'd be surprised with how many ladies are on the other side of the coin, so to speak."

"So you think Neal is involved... how?"

Mozzie gave him a deadpan look. "Have you seen Neal? He's handsome. Morgan would be more than happy to add him to his collection. I'd be surprised if no one took him already."

"So you think Neal was kidnapped and taken to this trafficking ring."

"I'm 85% sure. It's worth looking into."

Peter looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded. "I'll certainly look into it." As Mozzie stood to make a hasty retreat, Peter stopped him. "Hey, Mozzie. Thank you for helping."

"I'm not doing it for you."

"All the same."

Right away, Peter called Jones and Diana up to his office, discussing what he'd just learned with them. As with any other case, they strategized, came up with a game plan, and gathered a team to focus solely on finding Neal.

'Just sit tight, Caffrey... I'm getting closer.'

-)()(-

It was hotter than usual. Sure, it was summer and the boxcar always got hot during the day. It was like an oven in there, but today, it was pushing into the hundreds, Neal was sure. It was hard to breathe.

Vito hadn't even come yet, and Neal was waiting for him, dreading whatever tortures in store for him. The heat was enough torture today. Couldn't he catch a break?

When the door finally slid back, Neal didn't bother to look up. But when footsteps, not Vito's, approached, he lifted his head, heart sinking further when he realized it was the sister. He couldn't deal with that today.

She knelt in front of him, pressing a deliciously cool hand against his forehead. "You poor thing," she purred. "It's hotter than the blazes in here."

Neal resisted the urge to pull away. Her hands felt too good caressing his face. At least she never hurt him like Vito did. She may be bad news in her own way, but he would take her over that monster.

"You thirsty?" she asked, lifting his chin before removing the gag and the blindfold.

Neal immediately noticed the silver water bottle she held in front of him and he looked from that to her face and back, silently questioning whether it was okay. In answer, she held it out further and he didn't question it anymore. The water was blessedly cold and he closed his eyes as he drank, already feeling much cooler.

She took it away after a few seconds, smiling. "Better?"

Neal had learned it was best not to answer her. She took it to mean he actually enjoyed her company. Unfortunately, his silence didn't deter her either.

"Did you miss me?" She pressed closer to him, knowing full well he couldn't move away more than a couple inches, which he did.

Neal knew what was coming. It was always the same when she came. Her games were a torture as well, and he usually closed his eyes and tried to block it out to the best of his ability. He did so now, feeling her hands all over him.

It was worse with the heat.

He almost didn't notice her leave, he was so focused on being in his own world. But he jerked out of it when the door shut and he opened his eyes. She'd left the blindfold and the gag on the floor along with his pants. His wrists were still secured, but then they always were.

God, it was hot. He was panting, drenched in sweat. He thought for sure he was either going to get heatstroke or he was already suffering from it.

He didn't expect the door to open to soon, maybe a minute after Cecile left, but at this point, he barely had the strength to sigh. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable. Vito would see him like this again and get angry, then beat the crap out of him for Cecile's actions.

"A- Are you d- dead?" a small, familiar voice squeaked.

Neal hummed in response, not even opening his eyes. He was just glad it wasn't Vito.

Tiny footsteps walked over to him, paused, then moved off to his left. He wasn't sure what the girl was doing, but he couldn't bring himself to care. She was kind. He didn't have to worry about her.

When her hands suddenly touched his feet, Neal flinched, and he heard her squeak again in surprise.

"It's ok- okay," she said. Neal relaxed again. He believed her. She was the only one he could trust here.

When she touched his feet again, he stayed still, and soon realized she was only trying to slip his clothes back on. He helped the best he could, but with his hands tied, there wasn't much he could do. Once that was done, she spoke again. "It's v- very h- hot today. W- Water?"

Neal nodded, opening his eyes finally. There was a new bruise on her face, over her eye, but she was looking at him with a smile. "I'll b- be right b- back."

Neal watched her go, immensely grateful for her kindness. He didn't know what he would do without her. What hope would he even have without a single friendly face in this hell he was trapped in?

He thought of Peter again and had to question whether or not his friend was even looking for him in the right places. He'd be looking, that much was certain, but would he be mounting a rescue or trying to chase down a criminal that wasn't running? Mozzie. Mozzie could talk some sense into him. Or maybe it would be Mozzie that came for him instead. Either way, he wanted out. He didn't care how that happened. Even if Matthew Keller walked in here, cutting him free so he could be used in a dirty con. He'd take it.

-)()(-

They were able to find Rex, but not just that. They were able to find about thirteen young men that had been held like livestock. Along with Rex, there were several others, men and women. Most of them couldn't stop talking once they realized they were all under arrest. They were very informative.

"Have any of you seen this man?" Peter asked, holding up Neal's picture for them to see.

That shut most of them up as they shook their heads. All but one. A dark-haired man who looked at the picture and sneered. "You interested, Agent? I didn't think feds allowed that sort of behavior."

"You know him?" Peter demanded.

"Quite the popular boy, he was. But I don't think you'll see him again," the man sneered. "He's long gone."

"We'll see about that," Peter said, then called over to Jones, "I want him. The rest of them, I don't ever want to see again." He returned his attention to the man in front of him. "You and I are gonna have a long chat."

-)()(-

Derrick Hoekstra was the man who had recognized Neal, and Peter sat across from him now, getting tired of asking the same questions over and over. Hoekstra refused to answer them, even when Hughes took over the interrogation.

"I'm giving you one more chance," Peter said. "You've got no one left to protect."

Derrick snorted. "You don't know that."

"What," Peter said, "You're afraid someone's gonna come after you? Your family? We've already taken down everyone in Rex's group."

"Not everyone," Derrick said, leaning forward over the table. "You're forgetting the buyers. You think we just kept them all for fun?"

"You know who took Neal," Peter said. "All I need from you is a name."

Derrick laughed. "A name. Yeah, that's all it'll take to paint a target on the back of my head. The guy you're looking for is one crazy bastard. I'd prefer to stay on his good side."

"If you give me his name, you wont have to worry about that," Peter said. This was the closest he'd gotten in an hour. He wasn't about to give up.

Derrick looked at him for a moment, then said, "I want immunity."

"The best I can offer you is a fair trial," Peter replied. "And I can let the judge know you helped us. But only if you give me a name."

Derrick shook his head and Peter thought for sure he was about to refuse again. "Vito," he said after a long moment. "That's all I can give you."

"If it's not enough, you and I will be speaking again," Peter said, standing. 

Vito was a name at least. Maybe there was something about it in all those rumors Mozzie had heard. It was worth a look, at least.

-)()(-

The next day was just as hot as the one before. But it wasn't bad because so far, no one but the little girl had shown up. Tonya had told him that Vito had gone somewhere and wouldn't be back for a while. He'd put Boris in charge, Boris being Vito's brother, Neal finally learned. Tonya said he was the dumbest guy she knew, but he shared Vito's violent nature.

"Is N- Neal your r- real n- n- name?" she asked.

Neal nodded.

"G- Good." She blushed suddenly, bringing her knees up to her chest where she sat against the side of the boxcar. "I'm s- sorry th- that I st- stutter..."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Neal assured her.

"It used t- to be w- worse," she said. "B- But I st- started p- practicing."

"You're doing very well," Neal said, offering her as much of a smile as he could. She'd once again removed the blindfold and gag, so he could see the wet patch on the floor beneath him where his sweat kept dripping.

"Th- Thank you," she said, smiling back.

They talked for a few more minutes, glad for each other's company. But, of course, all good things must come to an end.

They were both startled out of their wits when the door opened suddenly and Tonya scrambled to her feet as Boris stepped in, eyes narrowed. He jerked his thumb towards the door behind him, growling, "Out."

On shaky legs, Tonya inched that way, looking between the large man and the opening where she'd been told to go. Boris got impatient, and he strode forward, snatching her thin arm in one of his meaty hands. She yelped as he practically threw her outside, and at this point, Neal had gotten to his feet, despite how weak he'd become. "Don't hurt her!" he snapped, his voice unwavering. 

Boris wordlessly slid the door shut and walked over to him with heavy footsteps, looking at him with contempt. "Excuse me?"

Neal couldn't help but shrink back a little, not so sure when he said, "You heard me."

He was sure for a solid ten seconds that Boris was going to hit him, but it didn't happen. Instead, the man turned away, not even replacing the blindfold or gag. Neal watched, puzzled, as he stepped back outside and shut the door, but then his blood ran cold as he heard him bellow, "WHERE ARE YOU, BITCH?"

Tonya. He was going to hurt Tonya.

With new strength, Neal pulled against his restraints desperately, eyes wide as he shouted, "Tonya, run!" He didn't know if she could hear him, but it was the best he could do right now.

He turned his attention to the way his wrists were tied, looking for a weakness. He'd done so many times already, of course, but again, what else was he to do?

The leather straps were tied with thick ropes to the metal loops that had been welded to the sides of the boxcar. He could never get ahold of anything sharp, so cutting the rope was out. The knots in the rope, however, maybe those he could undo if he could get at least one hand close enough to do so. He'd tried before, but there wasn't anything else he could think of at the moment.

He pulled against his left hand, reaching with his right. He winced as the leather strap dug into his skin, but steadfastly ignored it. His wrists were already rubbed raw.

Outside, he could hear Boris shout again for Tonya. Good. Maybe she was staying away. Hopefully, she was long gone.

Neal barely brushed the knot with his fingertips, which was more than he'd been able to do before. If he could just reach a little farther...

Abruptly, his left hand was no longer holding him back and he fell face first into the side of the boxcar with a startled yelp. Stunned, he caught himself and stood straight, bringing his left hand up to look at it. The skin was chafed and bloody, a dark bruise wrapping all the way around his wrist where the strap had been. His thumb looked oddly bent, but there was no time to worry about that. With much pain, he was able to slowly undo the knot with his injured hand.

The second he was free, he paused, listening. The only audible sound was his own heartbeat in his ears.

After a moment, he crept over to the door, peering out through the crack and nearly giving himself a heart attack when he saw Boris lumbering back towards the boxcar. Neal froze, thinking fast, and when Boris gripped the handle of the door and slid it back, he jumped straight into the man, catching him by surprise. They both fell to the ground outside, and Neal made to scramble off and run, but Boris was faster.

A strong hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, making Neal cry out as he was jerked backwards. He kicked out at the larger man, but it was like kicking a wall. It didn't do much.

A second hand tightened around his neck and Neal felt himself being lifted up, then slammed back against the side of the boxcar. The air left his lungs in a grunt and he gripped Boris' arm in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

"You think you can run?" Boris snarled, pushing against Neal's throat to enunciate the words. "How about you try that after I break both your legs?"

Neal's eyes widened and he struggled all the more, but it wasn't exactly a fair fight. Before the big man could do anything, though, there were several loud pops and he suddenly shouted in pain and toppled backwards. For a second, he dragged Neal with him, but then his hold loosened enough for Neal to leap away, gasping.

He spotted Tonya standing nearby, and was shocked to see a gun in her hands. But there was no time to question it. Boris was shouting obscenities and then the little girl was dragging Neal away, towards the trailer. They were inside before Boris had even gotten to his feet and Tonya quickly locked the door.

"Where did you get that?" Neal panted, pointing to the gun a little anxiously.

"It's f- for paintb-ball," she said, holding it out to him. "B- But it st- still hurts."

Neal took it from her and blinked at the weapon, then shot her a grin. "I knew I liked you."

She beamed.

Both their smiles disappeared, however, when there came the sound of Boris pounding on the door, still shouting at them. Neal pushed Tonya behind him, holding the gun ready in case he needed to use it. It certainly wouldn't stop the man from coming after them, but it would help them get away if he got inside. 

Tonya clung to him from behind, peering around him at the door with wide eyes. Neal kept one hand on her while the other held the gun. "Is there another way out?" he asked. "A window?"

She nodded. "Uh huh. B- But I d- d- don't think you'll f-fit."

Boris stopped pounding his fists on the door suddenly and now that he was no longer making noise, Neal could hear something. A car. Tonya heard it too and she stared up at him in fear. "V- Vito's b- b- back!"

Neal froze. That was the last thing they needed right now. "Come on, go!" he urged, tugging her further into the trailer where he easily found a window. It would be tight, but they didn't have much choice. As soon as Vito got out of his truck and Boris told him they were inside, the two of them would be able to trap them in here.

There was more shouting from outside, but it made Neal pause, and he grabbed Tonya again to stop her from climbing out. "Hang on."

"Wh- What?" she whispered, practically trembling.

"Sh."

From outside, he heard more than just a few voices, but one stood out, even more so with what it was calling. His name.

"Neal?"

Neal's heart leaped. Peter! That was Peter! Impeccable timing, as usual. "It's okay," Neal said, a grin breaking out over his face. "Those are my friends. They came to help us. Come on, it's okay."

Tonya followed him as he walked quickly back to the door, pausing there to call out, "Peter, I'm here! I'm gonna open the door. No guns."

"Alright, guns down everyone," Peter ordered, and Neal opened the door, looking down at Tonya to murmur more encouragement. 

As they stepped out, Neal saw Boris being cuffed by two agents. Diana and Jones were nearby as well, and Peter was standing close, an expression of both shock and relief on his face. Everything after that was all in a haze. 

-)()(-

Peter felt apprehensive as he led the charge. Vito, or Victor O'Connor, lived way upstate, in the middle of the woods. As soon as they pulled up to the place, they saw a huge man standing in front of a small trailer, looking rather pissed about something. It wasn't O'Connor, but it was something.

Several agents swarmed the area and the first place Peter looked in was the boxcar off to the side, sitting on an old railroad. Inside, there wasn't much, but it reeked of blood and sweat. Peter didn't like that. It looked like that was where Neal should have been, but he wasn't.

Peter took a chance, and called for his friend, looking around some more and listening. He was actually surprised to get a response from inside the trailer.

"Peter, I'm here!" Oh thank god. "I'm gonna open the door. No guns."

That was a little odd, but Peter acknowledged the request and ordered everyone to put their guns away. That probably meant Neal wasn't alone. Last time he'd told them no guns, there had been a kid involved. 

The door to the trailer opened and Peter had to stop his jaw from dropping at the sight of his CI.

Neal was shirtless, so every mark on him showed. Bruises, scratches, cuts, scrapes, burns, not an inch of skin was unmarred. His hair had grown out a bit and it was unkempt, hanging in his eyes. And he was filthy.

There was a little girl, maybe eight or nine years old. She looked around at the agents and cars, eyes wide, but she said nothing, just grasped more securely to Neal's hand. The both of them looked like they'd been through hell.

The girl, Tonya, went with Diana quite happily while Neal followed Peter. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"Three weeks and two days," Peter answered. He dug around in the back seat of his car for the shirt he'd brought with him. He'd actually brought a whole change of clothes, expecting the worst. 

Neal winced as he pulled the shirt over his head and Peter noticed he was being extra careful with his left hand. Straight to the hospital it was. That had been the original plan anyway.

In the car, Neal was quiet, staring out the window in a daze, and for a while, Peter let him be, expecting that maybe he'd fall asleep after a minute or two, but he didn't. Finally, Peter broke the silence. "You'll have to thank Mozzie for the rescue. Couldn't have done it without him."

Neal glanced over. "You thought I ran," he said quietly.

Peter sighed. "Neal..."

"Just like you immediately assumed I blew up that warehouse."

Peter turned his head to shoot him a glare, but stopped himself from saying anything. They'd been through this before. Arguing about it would do nothing but drive the gap between them. Instead, he spoke calmly. "I'm sorry."

Neal looked at him in surprise, but there was a small smile there. "What?"

"I'm not saying it again."

-)()(-

Tonya had an Aunt she could live with, which pleased Neal. At least she would be safe and she would still have family to look after her.

He'd said goodbye to her earlier, and she had grinned at him, saying, "You look g- good in a s- suit." Neal was sure she only meant he looked good with actual clothes on, but he'd take the compliment.

Things returned to normal, for the most part. He and Peter went back to their uneasy alliance. The treasure incident had not been forgotten, that was for sure. But they weren't as openly distrustful towards each other. Boris had quickly given up both Vito and Cecile, who were also arrested, which took a huge weight off Neal's chest.

Some things had changed, though. He knew that for sure when he almost punched Mozzie in the face when his friend had come up beside him and grabbed his arm in excitement at something or other. Neal had quickly apologized, but then he started to notice little things like that that startled him or made him uncomfortable. Touch, that was the biggest one. But then there was darkness, and silence. If he found himself somewhere too quiet, he'd wander to wherever there was another person. At night, he could hardly sleep because it felt like he was back in the boxcar, waiting for rough hands to touch him.

These things were all frustrating to no end, but they became a sort of normalcy. Even when he began to get over them bit by bit.

When he finally came clean to Peter about the treasure, it wasn't exactly smooth. That distrust was still there more than ever, but at least they both wanted to make amends. It would take some time. They knew that. But Neal was hopeful that one day, they'd look back on this as an important lesson learned for them both.


End file.
